A 3 million minute mile
Of wasted paper
Bundled in your tights
Breathes a justification
Cuniform gilded
Blankness
Beyond the measured
Scale...
Mention... Dimentia
Toppled over shortforms
And long hands
Snakelike and wormy
Full of holes and deliberation...
which be will the next be...
Consistent wanderings of the imagination...
Mechanized clocks tuned to the urn of time...
Bless this wishing well...
So deeply burrowed in earth...
So perfectly rounded to the sky...
And it's own inner resistance.
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